


Attempt to Negotiate a Peace

by holograms



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Bad Decisions, Blow Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slapping, don't have duels have sex instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/pseuds/holograms
Summary: It's not how Philip thought a peace talk would go.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrikerEureka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikerEureka/gifts).



> A (belated) birthday fic for strikereureka. This probably isn't what you were expecting. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s not how Philip thought a peace talk would go.  
  
After their confrontation, Philip waits outside the theater, with fire burning in his veins despite the chill in the air. He won’t leave it as it is — Eacker didn’t even give him the courtesy to engage him with proper conversation. He treated Philip like some _kid_. Things Philip is: a Hamilton, a poet, bold. But he's not a kid — and he’ll do whatever it takes to prove it.  
  
So he shouts Eacker’s name when he spots him in the crowd that spills out of the theater, and Eacker’s eyes finds his and he grins, like _this will be fun_. Eacker follows to where Philip inclines his head towards an alley, and walks by his side and asks, “Can’t get enough of me, Hamilton?” and Philip says, “This is your last chance.”

Eacker laughs, amused, and then they round a corner and they are alone — Philip suddenly becomes extremely aware of this, but to quell the anxiety in the pit of his stomach he says, “This isn’t funny, George, apologize or—”  
  
“Or what?” Eacker says, “You’re gonna shoot me?” He smirks. He smile is crooked. “I tell the truth, unlike your good-for-nothing daddy.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up,” Philip growls and lunges at Eacker because his instincts say _fight_ but Eacker is faster, stronger, older, and possibly smarter but Philip wouldn’t admit that, and grabs Philip by the lapels and shoves him against the grimy brick wall.  
  
“You’re reckless like your daddy, aren’t you?” Eacker asks, his grip tightening on Philip’s coat. Philip wishes that Eacker would stop talking about his father — it isn't really about him so much anymore. It’s personal.  
  
“Get off,” Philip says, squirming against Eacker. His struggle only makes Eacker’s smile grow wider as if he's been proven correct, and he pushes him harder against the wall, his forearm firm against his chest. Trapping him. Philip wonders if maybe Eacker might kill him right there in the alleyway.  
  
Philip says, “I’ll duel you, and I won’t miss.”  
  
Eacker raises his brow, leans in, says, “I’d like to see you try.”  
  
That’s all it takes for Philip to try, the invitation, and he pushes and fights against Eacker. They end up scuffling against each other — Philip manages to break free from Eacker’s hold and get in a few punches, but Eacker plays _dirty_ and pulls Philip’s hair and kicks his shin and slaps his face when Philip spits on him. Eacker slaps Philip hard enough to make Philip’s eyes water and he’s blindsided, staggers, and Eacker takes that chance and has him pressed against the wall again. Philip lets out a noise that’s half a whine and half a growl, tries to buck Eacker off but Eacker takes him by his arms and slams him against the wall. They’re both panting, breathing hard in each other’s faces — Eacker is so close that Philip can feel the heat of Eacker’s exhale on his face, of which that’s still stinging from getting slapped.  
  
“Fuck you,” Philip says.

Eacker hums, and then says, “Just say when, pretty boy.”  
  
Tension is still wicking at his insides, but for a whole other reason. Eacker must _know_ , must know that it makes interest for something spark in Philip’s chest and arousal burn in his belly, something forbidden that he wants. Philip wonders what gave him away — his eyes flit down, and sees that Eacker’s breeches are tight, just like his.  
  
Experimentally, he shifts against Eacker, arches so he presses his body against Eacker’s. Eacker groans, moves one of his hands so it grips Philip’s hair, winding his fingers in the curls. He tugs it. Philip shudders, and then hates himself for it.  
  
“Your daddy’s a slut, and so it seems are you,” Eacker says, sly.

Philip scowls, mutters, “Am not,” but there’s not much denying it when Eacker puts his leg between Philip’s and rubs it in just the right way against Philip’s dick to make Philip curse and shake.  
  
“Why don’t we take this… _disagreement_ somewhere more private,” Eacker suggests, and then he laughs when Philip responds, “Yes!” perhaps a bit too eagerly.  
  
They go back to Eacker’s place, Eacker half dragging him along. He taunts Philip _c’mon you filthy scoundrel_ and Philip thinks how that shouldn't make his dick so hard. He thinks about it when they get to Eacker’s modest apartment, and he thinks about it when Eacker pushes him to his unmade bed, and he thinks about it when Eacker crawls on top of him and grinds against him.

Philip manages to shrug off his coat while Eacker takes off his, but when his hands stall because he realizes that maybe he should start thinking before reacting and seriously _what the fuck are they doing._ Eacker reaches down and rips off his cravat, and Philip doesn’t know how he was going to explain the torn fabric to his mother. But once Eacker has his throat exposed and leans in and nips at the sensitive skin there, he abandons all thoughts of standing down — and when Eacker puts his mouth on his and kisses him it’s like he never doubted it at all.

And that’s how Philip ends up with George Eacker’s hand down his pants.  
  
Well, at least Philip has his attention now.

He whines when Eacker takes his hand out of his breeches and stops kissing him so he can pull off Philip’s shirt. It's kind of an undignified sound, and he just knows that Eacker is going to give him shit about it. And he does.

Eacker laughs. “Listen to you. Begging for it. I bet your daddy begs for it.”

“Please stop talking about my Pops,” Philip groans, because seriously. Boner killer. But really, he's too turned on to flag any and judging by Eacker’s bulge rutting against his, Eacker is too.

Eacker hums, brushes away a stray curl out of Philip’s face. “You're right. Let's focus on you,” Eacker says, running his hands down Philip’s bare chest. “Goddamn, you're gorgeous.” His leans in, licks Philip’s collarbone and then pulls back as though he's looking him over. “I believe you have more freckles than the sky has stars.”

It's oddly romantic, in a way, Philip thinks. Or it would be, if Eacker weren't looking at him so filthily. Like he wants to destroy him — but not in the way he had an hour ago.

"Don't tell me your dick has freckles too," Eacker says, and then he unties and pulls down Philip's breeches and takes his hard dick in his hand and moans, wrecked. "Oh my god, it does.”

"Yeah," Philip says, because he isn't really sure what else to say. Philip flushes as Eacker admires his cock, and then strips Philip of his breeches along with his stockings. He feels very exposed, now completely unclothed as Eacker (who frustratingly, is wearing too many clothes) conducts his careful inspection of his body — one hand lazily stroking his dick with not enough friction to do anything as his other hand runs over his stomach.

He bites his lip and bucks his hips into Eacker’s hand — it's not fair that he's doing this while he still remains mostly clothed, teasing Philip, keeping him at bay. Philip clutches Eacker's wrist, says, "Please hurry the fuck up."

Eacker smiles that crooked smile Philip remembers, but it's different now, and it makes Philip’s breath catch in his chest and arousal burn deeper.

"Aren't you eager?" Eacker says, murmuring at Philip's shoulder, his hand still on his cock. "And such a nasty mouth too, you scoundrel."

"I said _please_ " Philip begins, but Eacker cuts it off with a harsh kiss.

“I'm going to suck this cute dick of yours,” Eacker says, and he crawls down Philip’s freckled, lithe body until his head is between Philip's thighs.

“Don't call it cute,” Philip says, but then Eacker's mouth is on his cock and he doesn't particularly care what Eacker calls it as long as he doesn't stop.

George Eacker is an evil man, Philip decides. Eacker licks over the head of his cock, slowly, torturously — he wants to take Eacker to the dueling ground and shoot him because this is abuse. Eacker holds Philip’s hips down with both of his hands so Philip can't move like he wants to, to get off. Eacker goes at his own pace, selfish — it's like he's enjoying Philip’s dick in his mouth, sliding his lips over and sucking at the head. Philip moans because when he's got his dick sucked by girls it hasn't been this good, and just when it's starting to get better Eacker pulls off his cock.

“Why'd you stop?” Philip asks, his eyes squeezed shut and trying to breathe. He can't look at Eacker. Maybe this was Eacker’s plan. Get him vulnerable, wind him up, and then leave him aching and desperate.

Eacker trails his fingers over Philip’s thigh, smiling when he sees the muscles jump at his touch. “You never said _please_ ,” Eacker says.

“Bite me, you— _fuck_!”

Philip looks down at Eacker, who has his teeth bared and against the fleshy part of his thigh — the fucker actually _bit_ him.

“What the hell?” Philip asks, and then blushes because the sight of his hard cock in Eacker’s face is...a lot to process.

Eacker smiles, and licks a broad stripe up Philip’s length. “You asked for it, my dear.”

“Then suck my cock,” Philip says. He's feeling daring. If he's gone this far, he might as well see it out. He won't stand down from a challenge. “I know you're dying to get it in your mouth.”

“Oh, does your daddy know that you talk like that?” Eacker asks, and Philip goes to remind him to not talk about such things while he's got him naked and spread in front of him but Eacker takes his cock in his mouth again and Philip sputters into silence.

Eacker sucks him with enthusiasm this time, he's not dragging out the pleasure to tease — he wraps his hand around the base and stretches his lips over the head and slides his mouth down until it meets his fingers, and once Philip lets out a strangled sound Eacker pulls back off to suck at the head, pushing his tongue against the ridge. There's no way this isn't the first time Eacker has done this and that thought sends a thrill up Philip’s spine. Eacker is a dangerous man. Philip wonders how else Eacker could corrupt him.

Philip bucks his hips forward on their own accord, and he moans when he feels his cock slide in the wet heat of Eacker's mouth. Eacker’s throat tightens around the head of his cock and goddamn it's better than anything he's felt before, especially when Eacker draws his hand back and slaps Philip’s thigh. The pain going straight to his dick. Philip doesn't know if it was a reprimand for trying to fuck Eacker’s mouth but he gasps, puts his own hands in his own hair and _tugs_ it, says, “please,” even though he told himself he wasn't going to beg. He can feel Eacker’s stifled chuckle around his cock, and Eacker slaps him again, right on the same place as before. Philip’s skin stings and tears prickle in his eyes but he wants more, _needs_ it — he feels his balls tightening and his dick twitch in Eacker’s mouth as Eacker sucks him so so good that he writhes in the sheets and fists his hair.

“I'm going to come, please—” Philip shouts and no no no, Eacker takes his mouth off his dick, keeping a tight suction so Philip feels the drag of it.

“Be quiet,” Eacker says, his voice raspy. He straddles Philip’s thighs, slaps Philip on the face. Philip is still reeling when when Eacker asks, “Do you want to be caught? Have everyone know that you're a filthy scoundrel?”

Philip fucks his hips forward, whines when there's nothing to rub against. His face is wet with tears but he doesn't care. “I hate you.”

Eacker growls, and leans down to capture his mouth with his. Eacker bites at Philip’s bottom lip, causing Philip to moan open-mouthed and Eacker takes that opportunity to slip in his tongue. It’s rough, them sucking and biting at each other, desperate. It’s almost as good as getting his cock sucked, having Eacker, all at once. Philip tilts his head back and he feels those perfect white teeth at his throat — it feels like he's prey offering itself to a predator but he believes that Eacker is enjoying him too much to get rid of him. He thinks that this is the better option than facing each other over the barrel of guns. Nobody dies, and they get to fuck out their frustrations.

Philip realizes that Eacker is undoing his breeches one handed as he supports himself with his other hand.

“Fuck, yes yes yes,” Philip says and reaches down to help Eacker out of his breeches so that Eacker can pull out his cock. Philip bites down on a moan when he sees it — hard and wet at the tip with precome. His mouth waters at the thought of having it in his mouth, but Eacker seems to have other plans. Eacker sits up, takes Philip’s cock in his hand then presses it together with his own and then strokes them together.

“Oh my God.” Philip melts into the bed, his eyes fluttering shut at the delicious friction of their cocks rubbing together in Eacker’s strong hand. His hand slips over them, aided by the spit slick of Philip’s and the precome leaking out of both their cocks. Eacker runs his thumb over the heads, rubs against the slit which makes Philip shout out.

Eacker covers Philip’s mouth with his free hand, says, “I said be _quiet_.”

Philip bites Eacker’s hand. Payback.

And it's even better when Eacker slaps him for it.

Philip curses, thrusts up into Eacker’s grip and the feeling of their cocks sliding together and the lingering feeling of Eacker’s hand on his face makes him want more, and he clings to Eacker’s arm in a vice grip as Eacker continues to pump them together.

“Come,” Eacker says, “come for me, you nasty boy, you filthy scoundrel—”

That sends Philip over the edge, and he comes over Eacker’s hand, his whole body shuddering with the intensity of it. Philip moans as he watches Eacker spread his white sticky mess over both of their cocks and another spurt shoots out, getting on Eacker’s waistcoat. As Philip’s orgasm stops buzzing in his ears he whines, too sensitive to be touched — Eacker lets his cock go and starts stroking his own cock in hard, fast pumps. Philip watches, dazed, as Eacker angles his hips forward, aims, and comes on Philip’s stomach.

“Fuck, you look good like this,” Eacker says, and then squeezes around the head of his cock and coaxes out another streak of white that lands on Philip’s chest. Philip clutches the bedsheets as Eacker grunts and thrusts his softening cock through the mess on his belly.

“Damn,” Philip mutters, because. Well. He isn't sure what just happened, or what happens next.

Eacker pats Philip’s cheek, gentle this time, instead of a brutal slap. He wipes his hand through his come and puts his hand in front of Philip’s face and looks at Philip like _well_?

Philip takes the offering, and keeps eye contact as takes Eacker’s fingers in his mouth, sucks. He sucks them like he would a cock, deep and hollowing his cheeks as he licks his tongue over them. He swallows down Eacker’s come. It isn't awful. He wants it straight from the source.

Too soon, Eacker pulls his fingers out, smearing spit on Philip’s face. He lies down next Philip, lets out a content sigh.

“Do you still wish to kill me?” Eacker asks.

Philip turns his head to look at Eacker — he's staring at Philip, looking too assured of himself. Philip struggles at the concept of maintaining the upper hand.

“Perhaps,” Philip begins, “we should continue these peace talks.”

Eacker laughs, acknowledging the implication. “Dirty scoundrel,” Eacker says, and when Philip kisses him, Philip realizes he likes the sound of that.

**Author's Note:**

> I know.
> 
> come talk Hamilton things to me at [tumblr](http://acanofpeaches.tumblr.com)


End file.
